


Secret Window - Watching The Shadows

by raditus



Category: Secret Window (2004)
Genre: AU, F/M, Other, Watchers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 00:51:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18173687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raditus/pseuds/raditus
Summary: You try to perform. Astral magic, even being a beginner. Somehow, you wake up in 2004 from 2019!To make matters even more horrifying, you seem to have an admirer that takes it badly that you said no to them!





	Secret Window - Watching The Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> This is an au of Secret Window based on a hypothetical discussion I had when hanging out with friends years ago.

Weeks ago, it started innocently, never hinting of the strange mess that would happen. You nearly got run over by his Kingswood. You dad used to be a mechanic who'd had all types of cars come through on his lots. Seeming to be from the late 60s, nasty neglect had caused the car to take on a rickety look, parts of the wood paneling at its sides even chipped and faded! Just underneath each bank of windows on either side of the station wagon was a long strip gouged from the paneling. The pale metal of the chassis peeked through, giving you the impression that someone with an enormous grudge keyed the car to the extreme! For an old car though, it's front was nearly built like a wide, squat tank. You threw yourself over to the side violently, overcompensating by accident, the fear of being steamrolled by the massive station wagon making you not think clearly! You end up dazed, side aching at the bottom of an incline! 

The driver, a strange man, jumped out and ran over to you. He almost had a spill himself, sliding down the incline to get to you. You were dimly thankful that he wanted to go the length to make sure you were okay. Back home, plenty of people would cause this and race off, throwing their cigs and trash at you for having the audacity for being a pedestrian instead of a driver! You stood up slowly, but froze, as if spot welded to the dirt hiking trail! It seemed to be John Turturro himself! You flamed red; *Of course* it would have to be someone who was a celebrity to see you eat dirt! He grabbed you, pulling him close to you to check for injuries. 

"Um, I'm okay." You put in lamely, flushing and trying to take a quick step back.

He was very close and you were breathing in his cologne! It wasn't slathered on and the smell wasn't that bad. Your hand was braced out, grasping onto his shoulder. His blue shirt felt like a slightly thick cotton. His overcoat felt thicker, more of a homespun fabric. His chest seemed fitter than realized underneath the frumpy attire! You flush hard again, realizing that the closeness was inappropriate! 

"You shouldn't be running around willy nilly like that." He stated gently. His voice had a southern drawl. You gaped, your blood feeling like it had gone funny; It was 2019 when you went to sleep! You saw updated pictures of him on the internet before, but how the fuck did the actor manage to look like he de-aged back to 2004?

He was plenty taller than you, him being at least six feet, give or take an inch or two whereas you were only just five feet! There didn't seem to be an ounce of body fat on the man, and now you knew first hand that his dowdy suit hid most of his fitness! His pants were either dark blue, or black. His shirt seemed baby blue and he was a dark blue outer jacket. His hair was shortened just so at the sides, dark and neatly parted. Your hackles rose when you realized that barring the hat, he was wearing his John Shooter costume! 

"Where's the hat?" You croak out, without thinking. 

"What?" He asked, genuinely confused. 

"Your," You cut yourself off, gesturing with your hand around your head. 

"Oh, *that*," He begins, getting it. "I lost it when I dove off after you " He adds, "Wouldn't have, if you'd had common sense not to be plowing along like you were." 

"What else am I supposed to do then to lose weight?" It was a lame sentence, but normal. You had a sinking feeling that you needed something, *anything* normal at this point, otherwise you'd end up curled up in a fetal position on the side of the dirt road, having this guy wondering what was going on! 

He gazed down at your body, taking the sight of you in. "I don't notice a thing wrong, sweetheart." You flush, uncomfortable with this man remarking on your body like this! He gives you a slight, friendly smile, but seeing you flush, he dropped it, realizing he made you discomfited. He finally let you go, allowing you to astep back. You got the sense that he wanted to see himself that you were able to find your feet on your own. 

The both of you made your ways slowly up the incline, the hat being found and picked up. Your blood thickened when you realized that the car wasn't *just* a Kingswood, it seemed as if someone painstakingly dinged and scraped it up to be *exactly* like the one used in Secret Window! 

"Where around Tashmore do you live?" He asked gently. "Maybe I can take you home?" 

You run a hand through your hair, blowing a scared, harsh breath. Lake Tashmore; what the actual fuck? That was in the Secret Window movie! He was also beginning to piss you off, the curiosity about your situation waning. You didn't even care who he was; This guy was obviously sexist! 'John' was eyeing you intently, waiting for your answer. You shrug, why not? Even with the sexism, there was a great chance that you wouldn't see him again!

"Sure, if it's no problem." 

"Great, miss!" He beamed. You clamber into the front passenger seat after John hurriedly tosses the hat into the backseat.

"So, what's your name?" He asked you kindly after awhile on the road. He said he was a farmer who wrote stories to keep his farm afloat in emergencies. A certain author, he had a bit of a beef with lived on the lake and he drove all the way here to sort it out. 

"Y/N," You reply. 

"It's so good to meet you, Miss Y/N." Seeing your puzzled look, he amended, "Me using miss in front of your name was showing respect." You nod, showing John that you understood. "My name's John, John Shooter. Most everybody I know just calls me Shooter." 

Your stomach felt like it plummeted, dropping out of you completely! To cover up your fear, you force your tone into one your family always calls your *BS calm mode*, changing the subject. "What year is this?"

Shooter eyes you like you've gone crazy. "Two thousand four; What other year *could* it be?"

Okay; Gentle sarcasm from John Shooter himself. Well, it wasn't like you didn't earn it! You decide to change the subject. "So, where are you from?"

"I'm living in Mississippi." He stated, his drawl turning the state name into nearly sounding like it had Z's in it. You snuggle down into your seat. Strange or not, his voice is nice to listen to with the drawl!

"So, what kind of farming you do?"

Shooter seemed to be pleased at anyone asking about his farm. "I focus mainly on dairy farming, but I also got chickens and hogs. I even grow corn on the side."

"My grandparents have chickens." You like aspects of growing things too. "I'd help take care of them when I lived with them. The last place I lived before them, my family grew an entire garden. I'm more of an experimental grower; I'll plant something for the hell of it, to see if it'll grow."

He shoots you an amused expression before asking, "Where'd you live before your grandparents?"

"Maryland and then Florida. My dad died in Maryland, making our move necessary." Shooter winced.

"That's rough; Let me tell you." He added, "Both my folks passed when I was a boy."

You are at a loss for words, partly because of his loss, and partly because it was feeling unreal to you to hear Shooter's backstory which *never* was revealed in the movie! You made up your mind just then; Shooter was real all long in the movie, but just when Mort opened the door to him in the beginning! All the rest of the stalking trash was in Mort's head! 

"I don't know what to say," You were honest. Why give him a meaningless platitude when you didn't even know him well? He shifted in the seat, his narrow shoulders rising and falling in a shrug.

"That's the way of life sometimes, isn't it?" Shooter, not once taking his eyes off the road, added, "How about your family?"

"I lived with my grandparents, mom and siblings." He glared at you, his face unreadable. 

"You're not married?"

"No, haven't met anyone worthy for even a date." You can't help but sigh.

"Not even a boyfriend?"

It's not quick before you feel uncomfortable again. You don't like how this is going. "Hey, " You begin, as if suddenly remembering something important, "Are you heading into town?"

"Sure am, Miss y/n. What's the matter?"

"Can you just drop me off there?" He nods.

"Yes, ma'am." Was it you, or did he sound put out by not answering his earlier question? 

"Shooter?" He looks over at you even as he pulls over to drop you off. "Thanks for everything." He nods.

"Not a problem, miss. Just be careful; People can be *real* weirdos, no matter where you are." You leave the Kingswood, waving to Shooter as he pulls away.


End file.
